


150 Days

by bookmarksorganization



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (for Good Omens), Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergent for the Bible, Crowley Remembers Heaven, Heavy Angst, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Scene: Flood in Mesopotamia 3004 BC (Good Omens), stuck on a mountain for 150 days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23012029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookmarksorganization/pseuds/bookmarksorganization
Summary: Aziraphale and Crawly meet for the second time, and spend 150 days together through the duration of the flood.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 81
Collections: Ixnael’s Recommendations, Ixnael’s SFW corner, Our Own Side





	1. 2

**It was the second day.**

They stood together on the mountain.

The rain had fallen fast and hot, 

and by the time they’d reached the base of Ararat, water pooled around their ankles. They’d left behind the noise, at least. The humans hadn’t thought to find higher ground. This was the first flood. It would be too late, when they realized.

They would crowd the ark, too. Maybe they’d already started. Too late, too late. 

They had climbed in silence, and as they’d reached the last bit of flat ground below the peak, the world they looked down into had gone black and grey.

Crawly thought of the first storm, when they'd last stood together like this. A thousand fucking years ago. Couldn’t be an accident.

The angel had sheltered him beneath his wing. 

The world had been beautiful, filled with colors: soft gold and lavender, and the smallest point of crimson out in the distance from the lion’s blood on the sand. The first death. Everything had been strange, then. New.

Crawly was upset, and he didn’t know where to put it. He’d told Hell about what the Almighty was planning and he’d been ordered to stick close by. The higher-ups saw potential for another Eden. Get the corruption in there early; set a precedent. Make an impact. And they’d been excited about the huge amount of dead the flood would bring. What a prime opportunity: for the humans to turn on each other, in their last terrified moments. And Crawly would be there to help them along, of course.

He had no intention of doing anything like that. The humans didn't need any help to be terrible, and Crawly didn’t really have the stomach for it, anyway. Work would never know the difference. They hadn't yet, for the other things Crawly had taken credit for that were too direct, too cruel, for his tastes. 

He didn’t think he was very good at being a demon. 

But, it wasn't like he could quit.

He'd figured out fast that he could tempt and corrupt from a distance. Create the circumstances and let the humans make their messes. He enjoyed it: playing around with conditions. Which pebble would create a landslide? 

Not like this. This wasn't a landslide. This was an apocalypse. And it wasn't time for that yet.

The Creator he'd loved for the entirety of his time, when he couldn't stop loving her—and he'd tried. He'd been made of it once. Maybe it was the seed of their creation: that final bit of love that couldn't be sloughed off among the brimstone. He wondered if every demon felt it. He'd never asked. She was the only thing he still understood how to love, and he hated her more than anything. Her love had come first, like those gentle drops of rain on the wall of Eden, but then there was the flood of unknowable causality. She created them, left them to hurt, and suffer. Threw them into her game with stakes no one could have understood. They died for her. They bloomed and wilted and burned for her and her whims.

 _”I hate you,”_ he thought.

The angel was staring down at the dark water, far below. It was still daylight, but the clouds had covered the sun. 

The rain was hot—hotter than it should have been. Something was wrong—about that.

If you looked closely, you could see the dots and patterns of debris, trees, people. People trying to live. Crawly didn’t see the ark from where they were.

They were both very wet. 

The angel, Aziraphale, seemed miserable. He wasn’t supposed to be miserable; this was God’s plan. He was her representative on Earth, tasked with guiding humanity as they took their first clumsy steps into their time. 

Except now God had decided she wanted a re-do.

Aziraphale’s hands were clasped so tightly in front of him that his knuckles were white. He was just staring out into the water, as if he’d been frozen that way.

The clouds above their heads were heavy, dark—like they were swollen from rot. 

Crawly decided to try to make conversation. “So we’re up here for a hundred and fifty days?” he asked. He refocused on the angel, who didn’t react at first—just remained so still.

Aziraphale was silent, for seconds, but then stirred. He turned and raised his eyebrows in question at Crawly—like he was expecting Crawly to say something else, or like he was reacting on a delay—and then his thoughts seemed to finally catch up. “Uh—um, yes. That’s the information I was given.” A beat. “Wait, how do you know that?”

Crawly took that opportunity to wander off. He examined the space they had, up on this bit of flat ground. “Hell, obviously,” he said. “They stay clued in on the big stuff.”

“But—but you asked me questions about it!”

 _Because I hoped we were wrong._ “I wanted to see if this uh… this new thing was as… shit, as it sounded.”

“Do you have to use language like that?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Crawly asked, wheeling around, suddenly irritated. “Lots of humans down there, yelling that and worse right about now.” 

Aziraphale pressed his eyes shut and breathed in, deep. He stared back at Crawly, so plainly heartbroken (of course he was, so full of surprises) that it just wasn’t worth it, to poke at the angel. 

They were stuck here, after all.

Crawly snapped power up, to change the air above and around where they stood. The rain overhead altered course, flowing and pinging away around them. 

Aziraphale started, at that. He gave Crawly a searching look, wet, and sad, and now confused. “You stopped the rain.”

Crawly nodded. “Well, I redirected it away from here. I'm not planning to spend four months being damp.”

“Well, it's only going to rain for the first forty days and forty nights.”

“Oh right, sorry,” Crawly said, not sorry. He couldn’t decide which part of the ground seemed softest. “Why the specification?”

“What?”

“Forty days and forty nights. Isn’t the night part sort of implicit? If it’s going to keep on do you think they’d be like ‘Oh, it’s eighteen-hundred hours, find a nice puddle to settle down in and see you tomorrow.’ so they were like ‘Better let them know that night _is_ included’” He was only half-listening to himself.

“What are you doing?”

Crawly looked up from where he’d just laid down. “Sorry, I ramble.”

“No, I mean, why did you lie down?”

“Because I’m going to sleep? We just spent two days climbing a mountain.”

“Do demons… need to sleep?”

“It’s not about need. It’s—it’s nice.” He tried to find a comfortable position. “See you tomorrow, Aziraphale.”


	2. 10

**Day 10**

“So, were you on Earth the whole thousand years?” the angel asked. They hadn’t been talking much, but curiosity and lack of distraction had its own gravitational pull. Currently, they were sitting beside each other and avoiding eye-contact.

Crawly nodded. “I was. Same for yourself?”

“Same for me. How was it, for you?”

“Uh… good? And bad. And interesting. And dull. Time’s different, up here.”

“It is.”

Crawly poked at the dirt. “It’s been kind of a long time, hasn’t it, since the Garden? I’m surprised we never ran into each other. Especially in the early days.” He’d thought of the angel, here and there—wondered if he’d stayed down on Earth the whole time.

“Well, that wouldn’t do, would it? Us being natural enemies, and the like.” 

There was something to Aziraphale’s tone Crawly couldn’t quite parse. The angel always sounded nervous, and Crawly had noticed the nervousness came in different shades, but not ones he could name. Not yet.

“Mmm. Yeah, couldn’t have that.” But, Aziraphale fascinated him. Crawly could admit that, to himself. “So,” he said. “Walk me through a thousand years, Aziraphale. You can spare the classified information.”

“Oh, it’s really not very interesting.”

“Compared to what?” Crawly turned to look at him, away from the emptiness, away from all the death.

Aziraphale hesitated, but then, he did. He talked about where he had traveled, and about humans learning and creating. He lit up, at the good parts. So pleased. So fond. He darkened, when he talked about their short, difficult lives. And through all of it was this thread of faith, of love, in how he spoke. He believed in them.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m sure you can figure that out,” Crawly said.

Aziraphale frowned.

“Temptation, sowing discord, evil deeds, et cetera.” 

Aziraphale frowned more.

“Uh—is that standard heavenly judgment on your face or is something else bothering you?”

The angel laughed, then. A delighted peal of sound. Surprised. “It’s nothing. You’re funny, which I’m sure you know.”

Crawly didn’t think Aziraphale had frowned at him for being funny, but the compliment made something in his chest brighten. An angel thought he was funny. Crawly thought of himself as clever, and humans certainly appreciated it, but no one on either side had ever acknowledged it, even before.

“Well, charming’s in the job description,” he said, feeling some strange satisfaction.

“Mmm, of course.”

And it was nice to see the angel smile. It should have pleased Crawly, to see the way Aziraphale held himself: like he was trying to be brave, like he was trying to not-think-about this giant grave they were in the middle of—while not shirking from his duty to bear witness. Did he have to bear witness?

No one could say The Almighty didn’t have a sense of humor. Not anyone who’d ever paid attention. Unfortunately, she pretty much exclusively went in for irony.

Ten million angels to choose from. Multitudes who would have loomed from a mountaintop, resolute, righteous in this death. So much death. And she’d picked _him_.

Why? Did someone have to feel the pain alongside the humans? Did she need someone who understood the cost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley would ask himself that again, when he knew Jesus. Aziraphale had spotted Crawly a few times during that 1000 years, and hurriedly made himself scarce.


	3. 26

**Day 26**

There was a brittleness to the angel’s resolve. He mostly ignored the occasional jab-at-the-Almighty Crawly couldn’t resist throwing, which was emboldening.

“And wine’s incredible. Love wine. It’ll take ages for decent wine again, no thanks to her. You know, maybe some bottles will survive. They haven’t sorted out glass yet.”

“I recognize this is an absurd request to make of you, but can you please stop?"

Crawly slowed. “Stop what?”

“Blaspheming.”

“Wh—you’re asking me to stop blaspheming? I’m a demon!”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“Then why ask?”

“Because I’m foolish.” Aziraphale got to his feet. “I don’t know what I expected,” he said, voice mild and low—aimed inwards.

Crawly felt a flash of guilt, followed by confusion.

Aziraphale walked away.

 _Didn’t know what he’d expected._ That a demon would blaspheme? Made sense. That a demon would ignore an angel’s request? Of course they would. Why wouldn’t they?

Why did that bother him?

Well, it was obvious, wasn’t it.

The angel was special. He wasn’t like all of the other greige sycophants Up There.

And Crawly would take the company of demons over angels any day, but he didn’t really _go in for things_ the way his colleagues did. Toe’d the line when they looked the other way. Bit of a rebel, kind of cool. He wasn’t like other demons.

But, Aziraphale didn’t see that. Aziraphale would probably be this nice to any demon, because he was very obviously nice to everyone. And they’d take advantage of that. They’d hurt him.

Except he was a Principality, formerly-armed with a holy weapon. Tasked to guard the Eastern Gate of Eden. He had to have a service record—had to have fought in the rebellion, on the other side. 

Crawly hadn’t been there for the fighting, but he’d heard it. Heard the cries of angels falling, before the floor beneath him moved and his world was ripped away. Heaven was a receding point of light, taking its place among the stars as he fell into darkness, forever.


	4. 27

**Day 27**

“You’re a Principality.”

“If you keep blaspheming I’ll get up and walk away again, and you’ll have to follow me around like a fool to keep going.”

“Don’t think I wouldn’t—hey, wait, not right now. S—uh, look, I’m making conversation. I want to learn more about you.”

Aziraphale settled. “For nefarious purposes, I’m sure.”

“As much as I want to encourage your suspicion, we’ve got a lot of time to kill and demons do in fact experience boredom. I’m making conversation.”

“With your natural enemy.”

“Do you see anyone else up here? Beats taking in the view.”

“... fine. Where were you going with pointing out my rank?”

“Principalities are soldiers.”

The angel raised his brows. “Truly, your knowledge of The Host is formidable and far-reaching," he said, dry.

“Oh, fu—that’s not what I’m trying to say.”

“Well, no rush. We’ve got a couple of months still.”

Crawly tried again. “You’re a soldier. You don’t act like a soldier.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, you gave your sword to the humans.”

“You’ve mentioned that.”

“Disobedient.”

“There weren’t any direct orders about that. I’m sure given the circumstances, one would—”

“Who’s one?”

Aziraphale cleared his throat. “—be able to understand, once it was explained.”

“Doubt it.”

“You would.”

Oh, he was a bit of a bastard, wasn’t he? That was delightful. That was amazing. 

“And you’re soft, and you care about the humans.”

Aziraphale peered at Crawly—like he thought Crawly was going on about something. “Of course I do. I’m an angel.”

“Angels don’t care about humans.” Aziraphale’s eyes narrowed, and Crawly pressed on, “No, I mean it. Where are they?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth, and closed it. “That’s not their jobs,” he said, eventually.

“Okay, fine, when have you seen another angel care about a human?”

“You don’t know that.”

“Of course I know that. Former angel.” _Gross._

“Yes, well, you have a bias.”

“And so do you.”

“I don’t see what your point is.”

“I’m not trying to make a point. I’m trying to learn about you.”

“By telling me I’m a strange angel.”

“Okay, back on subject. You’re a soldier, yeah? So you fought during the rebellion.”

Crawly caught the surprise, but then it was gone. Back on guard.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. His voice was almost empty.

“What was that like?”

“What do you think it was like?”

“I imagine we’ve got a different perspective on that, angel.”

What was that expression on his face? Why did Aziraphale look like he was about to apologize?

“It was sad,” Aziraphale said.

“Sad?”

“I recognize that’s understating things. I try not to think about it, if you must know. Unhappy memories, putting it mildly.”

“So you fought.”

“You already said that.”

“You… cast demons out, and all that.”

“Yes.”

“With holy weapons and power and…”

“Crawly—what’s your point?”

“You don’t seem like the type.”

Apprehension. “And what type is that?”

“Hard. Cruel.”

“It wasn’t cruelty. It was a duty.”

“You really believe that?” 

Of course he did. How could he know any better?

“Yes. It was.”

“Mmm.” 

And Crawly was the one to walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neither of them noticed Crawly calling Aziraphale "angel," that first time.


	5. 35

**Day 35**

It all went very wrong.

It had been a good week, before. Aziraphale sought Crawly out—made conversation. It had been nice. They’d lapsed back into talking about food, and the humans, and art, and music, and passed the days with bouts of that.

Don’t look too closely at the natural enemies thing. Don’t think about how the nice, clever angel was still a soldier—would still have run Crawly through and known it was ordained—justice. He’d find it all sad, he found this sad, but that didn’t sway him in standing for it. He probably found Crawly a pleasant distraction (Crawly was a professional Pleasant Distraction) or was too Good to not try to make this stretch of time something bearable. 

That didn’t mean he thought of Crawly as anything other than Evil. Corrupted all the way down.

Don’t fall for it.

It was better, to pass the time as pleasantly as they could. 

The brittleness hadn’t gone away from the angel. The tightness to his face had intensified, as if he was enduring some sort of physical pain he refused to acknowledge. 

Crawly didn’t like to see him that way, which made him feel silly. He didn’t know what to do about that.

It was morning, and Crawly found Aziraphale sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest. Staring out at the water. They were both always staring out at the water.

As he approached the angel, he noticed there was something different to how he held himself. Something had cracked.

Aziraphale didn’t look up, and Crawly sat beside him, saw the red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. 

Tears.

Crawly didn’t know what to say, but he knew he shouldn’t say anything. But, he did. He said, “You wouldn’t have been able to do anything.”

Aziraphale seemed to fully realize Crawly was there, and he turned his head, brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” His voice was low, again. If he had been a human, Crawly would have thought he sounded tired.

“The humans. You couldn’t have saved them.”

Aziraphale’s expression compressed in—it was annoyance. “I know that.”

“Well, I just—”

“I wouldn’t interfere in the will of the Almighty.” 

“I know—I just—” This wasn’t going well. “Of course you wouldn’t.”

“Of course I wouldn’t.” Aziraphale looked away again. “It’s just... hard, what must be done.”

 _Must be done._ “Must be done,” Crawly echoed, the words bitter.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand. Well, actually, you’re right, I don’t understand, Aziraphale. I don’t understand a god who declares her love for all creation while she starves and drowns and scalds them."

“Stop it.”

“It’s true.”

“It isn’t. You can’t understand.”

Crawly got to his feet.“You know we may tempt, and torture, but at least we have the honesty to not pretend there’s any goodness to it.”

Aziraphale glared up at him. “Watch yourself, demon.”

“Oh? What are you going to do, discorporate me and leave yourself alone up here?”

Aziraphale flinched. Crawly noticed it, but he was too angry to stop.

“What do you think the Fall was _like_ , angel? What do you think Hell _is_? Ten million of us in boiling sulfur, burning, reforming as we tried to save ourselves. This is _nothing_ compared to what your god did to her first children.”

Aziraphale had stood up while Crawly spoke, probably unwilling to be lectured by a looming demon. “You chose your side.”

Crawly laughed. “Are you serious? Do you think it was a choice?”

“Even if it wasn’t a conscious choice, your actions sealed your fate. No one but you did the things you did.”

“And what did I do, angel?”

Aziraphale frowned, then. He cast his gaze around. 

“Oh, you don’t know, of course. And that must scare you. Are you worried that while you wept over the dying families, generations blotted out, clean bloody slate, soaked with it—that your wings might go up in flame? What about your sword, really?” Crawly hissed. “You’re walking on a tightrope and you don’t even know which step might be the one that sends you over.”

The blow hit its mark. Aziraphale’s eyes widened. He was silent, for heartbeats. 

The heavens emptied themselves out around them, and Aziraphale said, “You’re really very good at being a demon, Crawly. You make people like you. You get them to relax enough that when you hurt them, their defenses are lowered. I have to commend you. You make a worthy adversary.”

Crawly turned on his heel and stormed off.


	6. 77

**Day 77**

They didn’t speak for a week, and while they weren’t talking the rain stopped. It made the silence unbearable.

Crawly decided to sleep. 

When he woke, the world was still empty. The quiet had somehow grown: a huge thing that must have fed itself on the voices silenced, on the still sky, on an angel’s vigil and a demon’s slumber.

Aziraphale was sitting as far from him as he could, and Crawly approached him with caution. When Aziraphale saw him, his face fell in relief.

Crawly wanted to apologize, but there was no way in Hell he was going to. He wanted the angel to apologize. That wasn’t going to happen.

He took a seat next to Aziraphale.

“All the rest of the birds died,” the angel said. His voice cracked on the words. Crawly guessed there hadn’t been anyone else to speak with. “It’s just us, now.”

“How long did I sleep?” 

“Thirty-five days.” 

There was tension to the set of Aziraphale's shoulders. They lapsed back into silence. 

The angel had kept count.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” Aziraphale whispered. “I just want to get through this.”

Another angel would have discorporated him and recommitted to their watch. Crawly was no fighter. He would have waited in Hell until the flood waters abated and then would have popped back up in a new body. 

But, this one was afraid of being alone, so much so that he was open to the company of a demon. He really was a very strange angel.

It concerned Crawly. All the strange angels he’d known before had fallen with him, twisted into cruel, terrible things. They’d all reveled in it, so happy to distort themselves into a blasphemy of their original form and purpose.

He couldn’t picture Aziraphale doing that, turning into a demon and giving away his gentleness for some poisonous alternative. He thought again, of that unanswered question. Why him? Did someone have to understand the cost? 

Or…

Was the angel being tested? Crawly couldn’t think of a better-designed trial for someone like Aziraphale. 

He realized that he desperately didn’t want the angel to Fall. And that was a chilling thought.

He made it a day before he couldn’t resist bringing it up.


	7. 78

**Day 78**

“Aziraphale,” he began.

The angel turned to him. 

“You talked about how I made myself Fall,” Crawly continued.

Aziraphale winced: an instant of pain and regret. “Crawly, I told you that I don’t want to fight with—”

“Not looking for a fight. I’m trying to say something.”

Aziraphale regarded him with suspicion but didn’t protest further.

“You talked about how I made myself Fall,” Crawly repeated. “You said even if it wasn’t a conscious choice, that my actions sealed my fate. You were right.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“I wasn’t aiming to Fall. I wasn’t one of the ones who rebelled. It just sort of… caught up with me.”

He could tell that the angel hadn’t quite caught on. “I’m telling you that you need to be careful,” Crawly said.

“What… wouldn’t you want me to fall?” Aziraphale didn’t understand why Crawly was telling him that. He had to be wondering if this was some trick.

“No.”

“What?”

“No, I don’t want you to Fall.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Mm. Are you offended? Do you think we’re just really selective?”

Aziraphale laughed. Thank—thank _something._

“I don’t think you would like Hell.” Crawly said.

“Well, obviously. I’m an angel.”

“How many of the archangels did you know, before? Or, the other high-ranking ones?” 

They hadn’t known each other. So, he wasn’t sure.

“Some. Why do you ask?”

“Did you know any of the ones that Fell?’

The lines around Aziraphale’s eyes smoothed out. The question sobered him. “Not well,” he said.

“Well, I did.” Crawly ignored Aziraphale’s surprise. “And let me tell you, some of the ones who Fell, who were the most righteous in Heaven, have done the best for themselves in Hell. Do you know who Lord Beelzebub _was_? Or Lord Dagon? They were Haniel and Zaphkiel.”

“I was aware they’d fallen. But I—didn’t know their new names.”

“Did you ever meet them?”

“No.”

“Well, they’re both as righteous as ever, they just play for another team now. So what I’m trying to say, is you being an angel isn’t a special precondition on you not being suited to Hell. We were all angels.”

Aziraphale took a breath and seemed like he was about to ask something, then. He said, “Why don’t you think I would like Hell?” 

Crawly suspected it wasn’t what he’d first opened his mouth to ask. He reckoned the angel had swallowed down some form of _“And what about you? Who were you?”_ Crawly wasn’t going to have that conversation with him. He was grateful, to have been spared the effort of having to choose a response cruel enough to keep the angel from ever asking him that again. Aziraphale had figured it out on his own. Smart angel.

“You’re kind,” Crawly said, finally. “And you like Earth.”

“Well, yes.” 

They'd already discussed those qualities.

“I just think you should be careful. Stay the course. Don’t let this make you doubt things too much.”

His face. Crawly felt something he didn’t like, at what passed over Aziraphale’s face. He shouldn’t get to see that.

“I’m trying.”

“Good. That’s all anyone can do.”

“Do you like Hell?”

Crawly shook his head.

“It surprises me that you’d admit that.”

“Does it? We aren’t supposed to like Hell. It’s… well… it’s Hell.”

“But, you like Earth.”

“Might have been growing on me. We’ll see what condition your Almighty leaves it in, after this.”

Aziraphale was just quiet.


	8. 90

**Day 90**

They were lying on the ground, looking at the stars. The sky was so clear. It had all poured out. Nothing left to cloud the atmosphere.

The Milky Way arched over the earth, and them: shining and vast and so far from here. Crawly knew what he saw from the ground was light from long, long ago, but he still thought, idly, that the stars were likely having a better time than this part of the Earth.

_Hello._

From his right, Aziraphale said, “Do you mind if I ask—we didn’t know each other Before, did we?”

“No, we didn’t.” 

Aziraphale didn’t speak, but Crawly could _feel_ the curiosity radiating off the angel. Curiosity was a constituent element of temptation; demons were wired to pick up on it. 

“Different departments,” Crawly added.

“What… can I ask—what did you do there?”

Crawly laughed in a sniffly sort of way. “I made those,” he said, and pointed up to the stars.

Aziraphale turned his head. “You made the stars?”

“I mean, not all of them, obviously, but rather a lot, yeah.”

Aziraphale followed his gaze. “They’ve been one of my favorite things, about being on this planet,” he said. “They’re beautiful.”

Crawly felt his cheeks go warm. “Thanks,” he muttered.

Crawly wasn’t Good, and he wanted nothing to do with _good_ , but when Crawly felt untethered, when he felt uncertain, he could look up at the sky and see the things he’d created still whole, still shining.


	9. 103

**Day 103**

It felt wrong to manifest food and drink in a drowned world. Didn’t have the same taste as the real stuff, anyway. The angel clearly felt similarly. The conversation they’d make would often return to food (Aziraphale) and alcohol (both of them). And humanity. The things humans did and made—had done.

There was a lot of time to pass. Crawly was currently telling Aziraphale about that: time.

“So their mathematics are founded on a base sixty system, you know?”

“Sexagesimal, Heaven was calling it.”

Crawly snorted.“That’s a choice. So, their mathematics,” he said again. “Was that your influence?”

Aziraphale became very interested in some dirt a few feet away.

“ _Aziraphale._ ”

“They’d already worked it out!”

Crawly smiled. “They do tend to do that, don’t they.”

Some time later, he remembered the point he’d been trying to make. “So that’s time, right? They applied it to time. Lined right up with the plans.”

“I’m sure the Almighty accounted for that.”

Crawly caught the nervous glance skyward, and he couldn’t really dispute the statement.

“Did you ever pay attention to what they did with astronomy?” Aziraphale said.

Crawly shrugged. “A bit, yeah.” Seeing what the humans made of some of his handiwork. It was strange, but it was... well, another non-Evil type might've called it nice.

“They were, ah, starting to apply concepts of celestial omens to the stars and the like as well.”

“Oh, yeah.” 

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, sounding newly concerned. “That isn’t your doing is it?”

“Would I tell you if it was?”

It wasn’t. But, he’d had ideas. Maybe could do more with that, one day.

“Of course not." The angel's tone was mild.

Crawly could see the Ark, far off on the horizon. “Hopefully it doesn’t take them too long to make up the progress,” he said.


	10. 129

**Day 129**

Aziraphale asked if Crawly could teach him how to sleep. Crawly gaped at him.

“You’ve never slept before?” 

“I haven’t,” Aziraphale said.

“... _how?_ It’s been a thousand years.”

“There’s always been so much to do, I suppose.”

“Wh—where?”

The sun had set, but Crawly could still see well enough— could see Aziraphale shoot him a look that made it clear he thought Crawly was being ridiculous. 

Crawly racked his brain. “I’m trying to think of how to explain this. You should lie down. Does your body not get tired?”

“No.” Aziraphale laid down on the earth. He grimaced. “This isn’t very comfortable.”

It wasn’t an ideal environment, to say the least. “Uh, it could be nicer if you had something soft beneath you. The humans have their beds, will cuddle up with each other, et cetera. But, we don’t really have available options.”

“Well, could you?”

“Could I what?”

“Would it help if we held each other?”

 _What?_ “What? I’m a demon.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything. We’re in human bodies. Well, sort of.”

“No, I don’t mean like that. I mean, is that a good idea, letting a demon hold you?”

“I don’t see what the issue is. Is it different in some way from us talking, or sitting together?”

Crawly thought about that. It was definitely different. “It just is.”

Aziraphale considered it. “Well, I don’t see how. It doesn’t give either of our sides any sort of edge up, there’s nothing Good or Evil about it, is there? Am I missing something?”

“If it was Evil, would I tell you that you were missing something? Wouldn’t I be trying to tempt you into it?”

“If it was Evil, would you be discouraging me?” 

“I could be. I could be doing some sort of… reverse… convincing-you… thingy that makes you want to do it because a demon is saying you shouldn’t.”

“That seems rather complex. Are you?”

“...nah. Okay. I’ll, uh, join you, then.”

Crawly lay down beside Aziraphale. He reached out to pat his shoulder. Aziraphale stiffened. Crawly jerked his hand back.

“Sorry, just, not very used to touch,” Aziraphale said. “Could you please put your hand back?”

Crawly obliged. The angel was warm to the touch, through the fabric of his tunic. 

“I’m uh, going to get a lot closer and put my arm around your waist, if that’s alright.”

Aziraphale nodded, rolling onto his side, and Crawly wiggled further in. He stretched his arm around the angel as he’d said he would. Aziraphale was soft, but Crawly could feel the solidness to him, now—strength he’d guessed was there. 

Aziraphale took a deep breath in, and out. “You’re right, this is nicer.”

Crawly turned his face and laid his cheek against the center of the angel’s back, between his shoulder blades where his wings would have extended—if they hadn’t decided to do away with that indication of unearthliness. 

The angel really was warm. But, it wasn’t just that. This close, Crawly could feel the power—holiness—like lightning in a jar. If the jar was a very comfortable man-shaped being.

They lay there for some time, and Crawly began to feel the familiar heaviness in his corporation. From far away, he heard Aziraphale’s voice.

“How do I make myself sleep?”

Crawly shook his head. He blinked and tried to focus.“Can you make yourself tired?” he asked.

He could _feel_ Aziraphale thinking.

“You have to be turning that off usually, or something,” Crawly said. “Maybe try to… can you let your body be tired? It should be easy, right? If it’s never slept.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale didn’t speak for a few minutes. “Okay, I think so. I’m figuring it out.”

Crawly curled closer and tightened his hold on the angel’s waist. Aziraphale made an _’mmm’_ sound. Crawly would stay awake. It just didn’t seem… _something_ … to drift off and leave the angel unable to sleep. So, he waited, unsure of how much time was passing in his half-conscious state. He heard Aziraphale yawn.

“I think I’m tired,” Aziraphale whispered.

“Just, go with that,” Crawly murmured into his back.

After more time, Aziraphale’s breath evened out—the small movements made by the conscious stilled. Crawly opened his senses further. The angel seemed like he was finally asleep. Crawly let himself follow.


	11. 150

**Day 150**

It had started to rain again, smaller showers that would last for a few hours at a time. They’d fallen asleep under a downpour the previous evening—water pinging away from that boundary above Crawly had created. They woke up to sunlight. The air was heavy—more than humid, almost a mist.

Crawly rolled over, yawning and stretching out to his full extension, twisting around in the dirt. Aziraphale leaned onto an elbow and watched him. They’d slept like that every night, after the first time, with Crawly curled up against Aziraphale, and his softness and warmth. 

It made the days go by faster.

“I think I had an interesting dream,” Aziraphale said.

Crawly looked up at him. The morning sun behind the angel mimicked a halo.

“You think?”

“Mm.” Aziraphale nodded. “I’m afraid I don’t remember.”

He smiled at Crawly, before glancing up past him. He froze. His face fell. Wordlessly, he started to get to his feet. 

Crawly turned to look. It was the ark. Close. Closer than it had ever been before.

He looked back at Aziraphale, and back at the ark. “Is it—”

“Headed this way,” Aziraphale said. “Yes, I think so. We—we should make ourselves scarce.”

They hid, and waited, and the huge ship eventually ran aground on the mountain some ways below. After a time, they watched one of Noah’s sons come out the top. He went back down and then re-emerged with more of his family.

Crawly turned to Aziraphale. “What are they going to do about food?”

Aziraphale was focused on the people below. “They have stores to tide them over til the seeds they plant flourish. And the Lord will provide, of course.”

“Of course.”

Crawly noticed it, first, hanging there in the sky.

When Crawly had served under Heaven, he’d understood light, all the way through. He knew he was looking at a spectrum of it, in an arc.

He could figure out how it worked. It was shining through the moisture in the air. Part of the light had to be immediately reflected, and part of it was being captured by the water—and then it had to be reflected again, inside. The sunlight was being broken up, in the process, into its constituent spectral colors.

He recognized the handiwork. Uriel. 

That brought up a wave of disappointment, and disgust, and resignation. Of course.

“I have placed my rainbow in the clouds. It is the sign of my covenant with you and with all the earth. When I send clouds over the earth, the rainbow will appear in the clouds, and I will remember my covenant with you and with all living creatures. Never again will the floodwaters destroy all life.” 

Aziraphale’s voice was soft, and Crawly turned to him. The angel was staring up at it, and he didn’t say anything after that for some time, until finally—

“It’s beautiful,” Aziraphale breathed. His eyes were filled with tears. Crawly hoped, pointlessly, that they were tears of happiness.

“I—” Aziraphale started, and then he broke down. 

Crawly wrapped his arms around him, moving before he thought better of it, and Aziraphale clung to him. The angel wept like he was being wrung out, like the cracks had gone all the way through and something inside had crumbled under the weight of everything. 

Crawly prayed silently, terrified. _Please don’t let him Fall. Please keep him safe._ He already hated her, had for so long, but he found some new rage, some new depth of betrayal as he held the angel—who she’d allowed to witness all of it, with no shield of ignorance like the humans were allowed, no distance like the rest of his kind had enjoyed from Heaven. His heart broke. They were insects to her. His prayers were pleas for mercy. There was no resistance. Not really.

He guided them both to the ground, and Aziraphale curled over his lap. He wept until his sobs became soundless, until he just lay there, trembling. Throughout it all, Crawly stroked his hair, rocked him, and prayed.

The angel was so still for so long that Crawly wondered if he had fallen asleep, but after a time he heard Aziraphale say, dully, “I have to check on them.”

Crawly almost offered to do it, but realized that wouldn’t have made any sense—could get them both in trouble. 

He didn’t know what to say, so he just said, “Alright, angel.”

Aziraphale sat up and went to stand—unsteady. He accepted Crawly’s hand, who also got up with him.

They stood there. Crawly knew it was time to say goodbye.

“So, I’ll uh, see you around, I guess.”

“I suppose. Hopefully our paths won’t cross anytime soon,” Aziraphale said, with no feeling behind it.

“Yeah, hopefully. Goodbye, Aziraphale.” He stepped away, then, to walk down the mountain.

“Crawly?”

Crawly hesitated, but he turned back to the angel. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said.

Crawly cringed. “Don’t thank me. Just—keep out of trouble, I’ll try to do the same”

Aziraphale nodded, clasping his hands in front of him—those worrying fingers, white knuckles.

“Farewell, Crawly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3 I'm @various-things on tumblr. Comments make my day.


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